


All You Wanted

by RyMagnatar



Series: Admiral Ampora [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, SPACE the Final Frontier, Slavery, future!Au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyMagnatar/pseuds/RyMagnatar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been over four hundred years since you left that pretty blond human boy standing in the rain as you got on a bus and left. You have accepted the fact that he is dead. You have accepted a lot, in fact, and have taken control of everything else.</p><p>You are Admiral Ampora. There isn't a lot left that you need bother with or even care about. </p><p>That is, until they bring you a stowaway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All You Wanted

The blackness of space was never inviting.

It was riddled with the pinpricks of other solar systems, of twinned stars spinning through space in an endless paired dance, of galaxies spiraling towards a dark center and universes far off distantly colliding in the slowest explosions to ever take place.

You stand at the bridge of your flagship, hands clasped tightly behind your back and staring through the glass at nothing. There is nothing ahead of your ship that you find of worth. You are an admiral now. You have a fleet at your beck and call and you beck and you call and they bend over backwards to please you. You have lost count of sweeps. How old you are doesn’t matter because you simply continue to age and age and never die. You get older, get a new helmsman, a new crew, another helmsman, a new ship, a remodel to your ship, another new crew, another new helmsman- the rotation is endless and you simply do not care.

Somewhere there is a log that keeps record of your age, of your wriggling day and how many sweeps have gone past since that day, but you have almost forgotten it. Were it not for those sycophants who brought you gifts to ply their way into your bed, into your heart or simply into your good graces, you would have completely forgotten.

The stars in front of you now are familiar, though, the familiar burning dots that riddle the blueblack sky of that tiny little human planet. You studied these when you enlisted but even before that you would watch them from the top of a roof where gravel bit into your shoulder and a tight hand was in yours, fingers folded together.

These are the things you remember. Not time. Not your victories. Not your great and noble ascension through the ranks. Not the war that nearly obliterated half of your kind and put the humans into the threat of extinction. There are still murmurings of it, even after so long, whispers that it will return, that the revolt will succeed, that some hopeful prince would find a way to void the iron fist of the Empresses. Foolish words of rebels, spat out like mouthfuls of blood before their executions.  

You would laugh at these, if you were to care. But your mind is elsewhere.

Your mind is almost always elsewhere now. Even when you are in battle you move automatically. Against your fleet none other stands a chance. You are a well-worn, frequently wielded weapon of the empire and as you look at the stars with your fists clenching your elbows so hard they go numb, you think about rain.

You think about your reflection in mirrored glasses.

You think about freckles across shoulder blades.

You think about a calloused hand light on your throat but tight on your arms.

You think about rough fingertips tucking your hair back into place.

You think about blond hair in bright sunlight.

You think about laughter even warmer than the humid Houston air.

Your claws dig through your gloves and into your elbows and your face is perfectly impassive as you stare out into the darkness. Those are worlds yet to conquer, you were told in the academy, galaxies yet to plunder, universes yet to bring down to their knees before you. You were part of the long hand of the Empresses. Their tridents could only reach so far.

It was your job to reach out and sweep closer every little bit of space for them to tear apart at their leisure.

Obedience, on your part, is nearly absolute. You gave up everything to become this- to fulfill your secondary dream. Everything had to be sacrificed in order to achieve greatness. If you wanted to become Admiral, you had to give your whole self to the growing Empire.

And grow it did. With two rulers, there was never enough space appease them both. This is the reason you cannot remember the last time that you were planet side.

“Admiral.”

Dragged from your mire of thoughts by a voice, you turn your head enough to see the speaker, saluting like a good soldier, and you nod.

Still at attention, he speaks, “Sir, we found a stowaway. A human one. We have brought it up here for you to deal with as per regulations.”

You purse your lips. When had something so petty become his duty? Oh that’s right. This sort of behavior was common during the revolution attempt. Trolls and humans alike smuggled on board to sabotage, to assassinate, or to sneak closer to the Empresses to try and attack her. They were horribly pitiful and eventually all were put into slavery or to death.

Turning around, you lower your hands from behind your back and shake your hands absently. You look over the soldiers and then drop your eyes down.

Shock snaps through you like a sharp slap to the face. You stand, frozen, staring down at the kneeling form. Eventually, you remind yourself to breathe. Then you look up to the guard, though taking your eyes from that thin body- _always so thin even though he ate so much and so often, he would laugh and say it’s from sparring-_ nearly brings you physical pain. “Explain what happened.”

His body shivers. You see it quiver out of the bottom of your vision but you keep your eyes glued to the soldier. The troll begins to speak, a rehearsed tone that said he had been thinking about these words since the moment he headed up to the bridge. You don’t listen to a word of it, too busy trying to ignore the way your blood rushes in your ears and now you can feel his gaze- _you didn’t laugh the first time you saw his eyes but he expected that (he had so many expectations!) no all you said was how fuckin intense they were no **wonder** you could feel him boring into you with his eyes!-_ digging a hole right through the center of your chest.

When the soldier goes silent you nod and say, “Don’t bother investigating. Truss him up and take him to my exterior room. I will deal with him personally.” With that said, you turn your back, dismissing them with the gesture. You feel those eyes on you until their owner is dragged through the door.

You stare out at space but the only thing you can think about is _he’s alive, he’s alive! How the fuck is he alive!?_

* * *

All he needed was a bow and he would have looked just like a present on the floor. He lay on his side, hands bound behind his back, mouth gagged and ankles tied up. His mutated red eyes glared up at you, despite one being swollen near shut by a black eye. You close the door to your quarters slowly, watching him as you flip the lock on the door. You stand there, watching him glare at you, watching him breathe, watching him  _live_ .

Your hands shake as you stride across the room, sweeping steps that eat up the distance until you are down on your knees in front of him. You grip the cloth gagging him and untie it. Just before you pull it out, you hesitate. You look into his eyes and you cannot bear the intensity. You look away and your hands fall away.

As he struggles to spit out the cloth, you reach into your boot and pull out the slim blade there. A couple of quick slices and the ropes around his wrist are falling away. A few more and his legs are free as well. You are about to flick the blade shut and put it away when he lunges at you. His pale hand wraps around your black gloved one and his other hand goes for your throat.

Instinct and conditioned training react first and in seconds you have him face down on the floor, one arm twisted behind his back and the other hand under your knee as you crouch over him. The blade is against his throat and it is a half-pound of pressure from cutting into his skin. You suck in a shaky breath and lean down. You press your forehead against the back of his head and take in a deep breath.

Your eyes slide shut and you can for a moment pretend that you’re not in space, that he is not your prisoner. You can pretend you were wrestling for sport, maybe for the last pudding cup or to see who got the shower first when it didn’t really matter because either way you would go together. A sob tears its way out of your throat in the sound of a single word, “ _Dave._ ”

He goes very still at that and then his body goes slack underneath you. His words are muffled as he snarls, “I didn’t think you would remember me.”

That line alone makes you want to tear his neck open, to claw open his guts and climb inside and wholly possess him like he has done to you. The farther you have gone from him, the more time you have spent away from him has only made you want to soak yourself in his presence. You slide the knife away from his neck and murmur into his hair, “You are the only thing I can think about.”

“Liar,” he snaps. You flinch. You growl. You dig your nails into his wrist and pull his arm up higher until he winces.

“You have no idea, human,” you curl the word around your mouth with a viciousness that you though had bled out of you years ago. “You have no fucking clue what I have been through for all these _hundreds_ of years.”

There is a pause and then his voice is small, so fucking small and pitiful as he asks, “Hundreds?”

His eye, which you can just barely see from how his head is turned away from you, is wider that you have ever seen. Your chest throbs with pity and love for him and you let go of his arm. “Dave, what year is it to you?”

He doesn’t get up even as you unpin his other arm. He just brings them both close to his head and whispers, “It’s twenty-twenty-one, you fucker. Don’t you remember the date? Or did your fucking academy lessons wipe away every fucking thing that you ever knew before?”

With one hand you pull up the cuff of your sleeve. Underneath is a mechanical wristband with several buttons on it, you press one and say, “I need the earth date for today, computer.”

A soft chime and then, “Earth Date: It is the thirteenth day of the month of October in the year two-thousand four-hundred and forty two.” Dave makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and his eyes close. You shift uncomfortably on your knees. Should you draw back, give him space? You can’t bear that thought, as all you desire is to curl closer to his back and feed off his human warmth.

 His voice is painfully soft as he asks, “There is absolutely no chance that you aren’t fucking with me, is there? It’s really four-hundred years into the future?”

When you slide your hand over his shoulder he shifts to lean into it, slightly, giving you hope. It curls around your bloodpusher and makes you ache deep in your chest. You had nothing to hope for, anymore, once you became admiral and all your dreams you had left came true. You thought he had died, so many years ago, but here he was, leaning into your touch, warm as fire and alive. “Four hundred and twenty one to be more exact.”

There is just enough space that when he starts rolling there is plenty of space for him. He flips onto his back and stares up at you, holding himself up on his elbows. He looks up at you and you can see how much and how little he’s changed. There is a new wrinkle between his eyebrows and a couple new freckles along his cheekbones but his lips are still soft and pink and his nose still crooked from that one time his Bro broke it. You lean in, you can’t help it. You brush your lips over his and you whisper, “I thought you were dead.”

He retaliates with a, “You’re a fucking admiral?”

You laugh and try not to cry and succeed. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he tentatively puts his hand on your shoulder. “I have been for a while. I told you that I would.”

His fingers tighten in the wrinkles of cloth on the top of your shoulder, “I just didn’t think I would ever see it.” Tightening your arms around him, you squeeze him closer against your chest. You press your face closer against him and give a little sob when his other hand brushes over your hair on the side of your face. “You really missed me, you purple idiot?” He laughs at you. You can feel it vibrate through his throat and chest and into your body.

“You have no idea,” you find yourself whispering the words again. “You really have no fucking idea at all.”

Dave is quiet for a while and then he sighs softly, “You’re the one who left me. If you were going to miss me so much why did you—oof!” He lets out that sound as you shove him back onto the ground. You dig your claws into his shoulders and the growling in your throat makes your whole body shake.

“I left you because you couldn’t choose. I chose because _someone_ had to. You were on the fence and John was waffling and Vris and I were struggling with you stupid, indecisive, commitment fearing humans!” You lift him off the floor a bit and slam him back down, he bounces a bit and you can see that grit in his teeth that means he’s holding back a groan. “You being hot and cold with me is worse than flipping black and red, Dave, it’s so much fucking worse. So I made a choice because I couldn’t keep cutting myself on all your sharp edges.”

“You didn’t just make a choice for yourself, you piece of shit,” He snarls up at you, baring his little flat human teeth. So weak, he’s so insufferably _weak_ and too proud and too forward— “You made the choice for all of us. Two days later spiderbitch said she actually said what you did was smart for you and John and her fought until she walked the fuck out on him and never came back. He was _wrecked_ after that. You tore out my heart and then you caused her to tear out his and all we had left was each other.”

This isn’t what you wanted, when you saw him again—you imagined you would see him after you died, another one of those little hopes that became dimmer over time—you had no desire to fight him. You wanted to kiss his lips and hold him tightly and make him smile in that unguarded way he used to do with you. You wanted to love him. You wanted him to love you. That was all you ever wanted.

You let go of his shoulders. You can see pricks of red blossoming under his light shirt. “How did you get here,” Your voice is cool as you gather your control back. You can’t talk about that night. The sound of rain on glass and metal gives you nightmares still. “How are you still alive.” You would ask but instead you demand. He will tell you or you will make another difficult choice. You stare down hard at him so he understands.

“Time travel,” he speaks slowly. He glares at you like you have a hook on a chord and you’ve made him swallow it and now you slowly drag his guts out his mouth with it. “Our crazy powers started happening and we were testing the combinations. I had jumped around a little but I couldn’t go very far. So we combined my powers with Jade’s and….” He went silent, frowning. “I can’t go back without her.” He closes his eyes and when he lets out his next breath it makes him shake, “I can’t go back to him without her.”

Him.

 _John_.

There was no other him it could be. You know he knew what he was saying there. Telling you in simple but slightly obscure words that _you_ were not the one he would return to. A broken Dave and a broken John had fixed each other and for four hundred years you had remembered a human who no longer cared. With a smooth motion you get to your feet.

You smooth out your jacket, the wrinkles from your pants and you tighten your gloves. “You have three choices now, Dave, since you are a stowaway human on my ship. First, you can be culled before the crew for sneaking aboard the ship. Two, I can sell you off as a slave to the highest bidder. Or three, you can stay alive, on this ship, obedient to me as my slave.”

He draws back his lips in a sneer, “You think I would choose any of those willingly?”

Folding your arms over your chest you stare down at him, “You are a barely mature human of excellent physical condition, but I could crush your skull in one hand. We can fight and I will win because no matter how much I pity you this is still my ship, I am still an admiral and you are a human. A lot of things have changed in four hundred years, Dave. One of those being the fact that there are less than one billion humans upon the face of the earth and nearly a third of those are in slavery. Your people tried a revolution and you failed. You should be glad you weren’t culled on sight.”

“Why? So I can live out the rest of my life as your cabin boy? Fuck you, Ampora. Sell me. I don’t want to spend one more moment looking at your face.”  It hurts. His words slide in between your ribs and slash at your innards. This morning you woke to thoughts of his love and now he fillets you with petty words that mean too much. You realize that your pity for him has made you dull, soft, _distant_.

You nod to him. “As you wish. I hope you are happy with your last choice as a free man.” You turn and oh look, there is one of your capes. You tug off one of your gloves and a few moments of ripping cloth later, you turn back with a handful of purple strips. He is on his feet, rubbing a hand over his mouth and holding a sword in the other. The moment you look at him he lunges.

The chair that once held your cape clatters to the side as you move backwards out of his range. He presses the attack though, not giving you a moment to breathe let alone retaliate. Fire burns in his eyes, full of anger and hatred and fear. It just makes you feel tired to look at him this way. You keep just out of his way again and again and he begins to shake with his anger.

Finally, after he’s slashed your walls and furniture, he leaves himself open in a long downwards swing. You slip in between his arms and put your hand around his throat. He hesitates for one second and your other hand grabs his wrist holding the sword above your head. You begin to squeeze on his neck, cutting off his air flow. His breath escapes in a soft whine and you whisper gently, “Don’t worry, Dave. You will be taken care of just as you requested. I would hate to rob you from your opportunity to commit to a brand new, fucking beautiful future.”

He drags his nails down your cheek and you jerk your head back so he doesn’t catch your fin. You tighten your grip on his throat until his eyes roll back and his body finally goes slack. You wait until his heartbeat nearly fades before letting go. He goes limp and you catch him, letting his sword drop to the floor. You look at this beautiful human in your arms, golden-white hair, skin dusted in freckles and all strength and spitfire and you finally let yourself cry.

You press your face to his shirt and you sob until it is purple and soaked, clinging to his slowly moving chest. You sink to your knees, holding him, rocking with him and crying like you never let yourself cry before. All you wanted was him to finally say _yes_ to finally be yours and admit it and commit to it. All you wanted was to live out his short life with him happy because of _you._

All you had wanted was for your insufferably gorgeous and bright eyed human to love you back as much as you loved him.


End file.
